


Only Him

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-27
Updated: 2005-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-19 16:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12414246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Just a few weeks before her wedding, the love of her life comes to visit her and she is forced to decide between love and sense.  Angsty, one-shot.





	Only Him

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

It was him.  Only he would knock on my door at 3 a.m., and only I would be awake to answer it.  I almost didn’t answer it.  I almost didn’t even think about it.  I almost didn’t get up.  It’s too bad almost doesn’t count.  If you could take “almost” out of the above sentences, then they would look pretty darn good.  It would look like I have excellent moral fiber and strength of character.  It’s too bad that I don’t.  It’s too bad that I gave in to the overwhelming power he has over me.  Actually, it’s too bad he has that overwhelming power over me.  I gave in.  I answered the door.

 

All those dazed and confused feelings engulfed me by just the sight of him.  Him being here was just wrong in itself.  I was dressed in my pajamas, my hair was far from pretty, and I had bags under my eyes.  All of the wedding plans had gotten to me.  I was overexerting myself, and only he knew it, because no one could tell but him.  I was very good at hiding it.  Only he would know.  No one else would be able to tell just how bad it was, not even me.  Only he could.  He knew me better than I knew myself, and it scared me.  It was so wrong.  I didn’t want him to, but who gets to choose who they fall in love with?  Oops, did I just say love?  I’m not in love with him; I’m in love with…  How do you forget your fiancé’s name?  Well, HE comes and knocks on your door.  You forget <u>your</u> name.  How could you remember anyone else’s?

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to see you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I am getting married in two weeks.  It isn’t right.”

 

“Who says it has to be right?”

 

“Everybody.”

 

“Minus me; and you.”

 

He was right.  Everything he said was right.  Every time.

 

“Come for a ride with me.” “I can’t.  It isn’t right.  You can’t just show up in the middle of the night and expect me to go on rides to who knows where with my ex in his new motorcycle.”  His sexy motorcycle, the one he got because he knew I thought they were sexy.  Why couldn’t he have gotten it before I broke up with him?

 

“Come one.  You know you want to.”  Of course I did.  How could I not?  He was intoxicating, sexy, and had a brand new motorcycle.  What was to deny about that?  Already, I had begun the conflict inside of my own mind.  The only thing was, the side saying not to go was weak.  He wouldn’t have to even talk me into it.  I would do it, because I did everything he told me to.  The side of me in love with him would win.

 

He was the type of guy you date, not marry.  My mother told me that.  I agreed just so she wouldn’t tell me again.  I didn’t want to hear it more than once.  I didn’t want to have to face the future when she told me.  I agreed so she wouldn’t give me any hassle.  It wasn’t until she decided I should get married that I had to break up with him.  Everybody but him and me were thrilled.  To everyone else, I should marry the other guy.  We were perfect together.  But to him and me, life was euphoric, a dream, the best thing ever, however you want to say it.  And, I ruined it.  In a moment of weakness I gave in to my mother.  It’s funny.  Only two people know how they can control me, both have fine-tuned the art, and they both hate each other.  I wish I wasn’t so weak and easily manipulated.  But I’m not. 

 

So, I found myself agreeing to him.  “O.K.”  And we left.  Even though I was in my ugly pajamas, even though anyone could see us, even though it wasn’t right, even though I was marrying someone else, and even though I knew it would end up as more than just a ride, I went.  I pretended to be reluctant, but secretly I wanted it just as bad as he did.  

 

This was getting to be ridiculous.  He couldn’t just come and seduce me with his sexy body in motorcycle.  It was unfair.  He didn’t even have to try.  In fact, the less he tried the more I wanted him.  He didn’t have to say two words to get me to come with him.  Just his showing up would have been enough for me.  He had me even before he said hello, and he knew it.  It wasn’t fair.  He couldn’t, and I tried to stop, but it was all in vain.  I was in love with the wrong person, and I wouldn’t admit it to anybody, not even to myself.  The only problem was, he knew it.  He was the only person who could tell, and I don’t know how, but he could.  

 

We drove for hours.  He was taking me to the lake.  We used to go there before.  He would come and pick me up in the middle of the night and we would drive here just to watch the moonlight on the lake.  

 

As we stopped, he laid his head on my shoulder and said, “Don’t do it.”

 

I didn’t need to ask what he was talking about, I already knew, but I asked anyway.  “Do what?”

 

“Marry him.”

 

“What would stop me from doing that?”

 

“Marrying me.”  

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I already said yes.”

 

“It never stopped you before.”  He was bringing up old issues, issues he knew I couldn’t handle.  It annoyed me.  He knew I would give in sooner or later.  I knew I would too, but I always fancied myself with having a capital amount of imaginary willpower.  The only problem was, it really was imaginary; when he was around, it faded away. 

 

I have no idea how I even broke up with him in the first place.  I don’t even remember doing it.  All I remember was leaving the ring on his desk while sobbing hysterically because he refused to take it back.  I don’t even know how I got the nerve to do it.  All I remember was crying for weeks and weeks after it.  Breaking up with him devastated me.

 

Here I am, just a few weeks before my wedding, I am in love, but it isn’t with my fiancé.  How pathetic am I?  Wait.  Don’t answer that.  I already know; better than anyone else.

 

I couldn’t think of a good reply, or even one that made sense.  So I chose to just pretend he never said it.  If I denied it for long enough, maybe, just maybe, he would forget to ask again.  Maybe he would forget he said it.  The only problem was that we both knew he wouldn’t forget.  We both knew he would wait until I answered him.  We knew he wouldn’t say another word until I did.  We both knew that if it came between him and my mother, I would choose him.  I just didn’t want to have to choose.  I didn’t want either of them mad at me.  I would have to do it soon, before the wedding.  We both knew it, and I was wasting time.  

 

I suppose the worst and most pathetic sad, part of it is, I am in love, it isn’t unrequited, and I am doing nothing about it.  In fact, I am going in the opposite direction of progress.  I am marrying another man, and all because of my self-image, which I don’t even care about.  <i>“Then why?”</i>  I thought to myself.  I suppose it was at that moment I had a revelation.  The other guy is everything I want, but then again, he isn’t.  The idea of him is nice, but it just isn’t for me.  I knew what was for me, and it wasn’t him.  It wouldn’t be better in the end.  It wouldn’t work out.  He isn’t the type of guy you marry.  He is the type of guy you divorce.  I wasn’t going to marry him.  It wouldn’t last.  I don’t think it even started.  I wonder if it would ever start.  

 

“I love you.”  I found myself saying the words without even thinking about them, but I didn’t really need to.  I knew it was true.  

 

“What?”

 

I knew I had made my decision.  I wasn’t going back this time.


End file.
